


Frank Morrison Is Not Okay

by killy0urdarlings



Series: We’re Not Okay [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pining, Self-Harm, excessive use of the fuck word, frank is repressed, oblivious idiots!! oblivious idiots!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killy0urdarlings/pseuds/killy0urdarlings
Summary: Frank Morrison is not okay; this is true.Frank Morrison is in love.
Relationships: Frank Morrison/Quentin Smith, side Julie/Susie
Series: We’re Not Okay [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869568
Comments: 10
Kudos: 84





	Frank Morrison Is Not Okay

**Author's Note:**

> so this is meant to be kinda fast-paced and quick. i just had a lot of thoughts in my head and decided to write them down in one piece. i might do a longer multi-chap based on this but i have another multi-chap normal life AU in the works and whether or not i do something longer with this idea really depends on my ability to write. for now at least, enjoy this! the run-on sentences are intentional.
> 
> also, i apologize for any OOCness!! this is my first work for this fandom so i’m still learning the characters
> 
> warnings: blunt references to past child abuse, self-harm, brief suicidal ideation (very brief), general angst
> 
> please enjoy!

Frank Morrison is not okay; this is true.

Frank doesn’t care about anything; this is a lie. 

Oh, there are plenty of things he doesn’t care about. He doesn’t care what people think of him for smoking pot, or what people think of him for drinking underage. He doesn’t care that he dropped out of school, or what people think of him for it. He doesn’t care about the quality of the tattoo on his throat, or what people think of him for painting his nails black and blue like the bruises his dad used to give him. 

But he does care, sometimes. He thinks about getting kicked off the basketball team and he cares. He paints his nails purple and blue and pink

_(like the bisexual flag, like frank, like julie, like the colors of frank’s skin when he beats himself with his own fists)_

and he cares. He thinks about Julie Kostenko and he cares. He thinks about Joey and Susie and he cares.

One day he sits with Julie, eyes on the cigarette clamped between Julie’s teeth, the fullness of her lips, and she turns to him with glittering blue eyes. She removes the cigarette from between her lips and blows a plume of smoke into Frank’s face. Frank just blinks the sting away. “Frank,” Julie says, voice absent, thoughtful. “What do you care about?”

Frank just pulls a cigarette from the box, twirling it between his fingers. The lie is at the back of his tongue, ready to push its way through his mouth and out past his lips, but he decides to let it stay stuck in his throat. He can’t lie to Julie. She knows him too well.

“Not enough,” he says simply. 

As he moves to perch his cigarette between his lips, Julie stubs her own cigarette out and takes hold of Frank’s chin, pulling his face over to mesh her lips against his own, and then all thoughts of the things that Frank cares about are lost in the grass with his cigarette.

******

Julie doesn’t love Frank forever, not in the way he wants her to.

She still loves him in a different way. Says they’re “spiritual twins”, warrior partners in soul, but she doesn’t say what he wants her to.

One night when they’re lying together in bed, his legs intertwined with her own and her hand carding through his hair, she presses her head against his shoulder and says, “I think I’m in love with Susie.” 

And when Frank asks her if she still wants him, she looks him in the face and murmurs, “I don’t know anymore.”

Frank accepts it, because he loves her too purely to force her to love him back. And when she leaves him that night, pulling on a bright blue top and denim shorts,

_(beautiful she’s just beautiful)_

it’s for the last time.

No one says anything about the bandage wrapped around his leg the next morning, or the blood droplets on his bedsheets, because Frank doesn’t want them to. 

And when Susie gets him alone and quietly asks him if he’s okay, Frank just smokes his cigarette and lies through his teeth.

******

Frank is perfectly fine; this is a lie. 

Frank hurts. Frank thinks of his dad, the way he would kiss Frank’s bruises after he hit him, and it hurts. Frank thinks of his mom, the way she would dab makeup onto his injuries while telling him how much she loved him, and it hurts. Frank misses Julie, and it hurts. She’s still here with him, still spends everyday by his side, but every time he sees her sling her arm around Susie’s shoulders, or ruffle Susie’s hair, or press kisses to Susie’s face, it hurts. Frank’s been hurting a lot these past few days.

Joey corners him one day, asks him if he’s doing alright, and Frank says, “I’m perfectly fine, dude, what are you talking about?” and Joey just looks at him and frowns like he doesn’t believe him.

Frank goes tagging alone one day, and spray paints the words “FRANK IS NOT OKAY” on the side of a McDonald’s. He’ll never take the others to this one again anyway.

******

Frank meets Quentin Smith the day Julie moves into her dorm. Frank is the only one of the legion who isn’t going to college, but still he goes with her to help her move in.

It’s a relatively easy task, as Julie has a fairly modest amount of things to bring in, but still it’s hard for Frank. He didn’t get any sleep the night before and the wounded skin of his arm pulls and tugs and stings with every movement. He wants to go home and sleep, but it’s _Julie_ and he always helps Julie.

It’s when he’s about to bring in Julie’s boxes of photos and ornaments that a voice says, “Do you need any help?”

Frank stops in his tracks, lifting his eyes to greet the sight of a boy around his age standing there, a blue beanie tugged over his messy brown hair, his blue-gray eyes underlined by heavy eye bags. He looks even more tired than Frank feels. 

Frank hesitates just long enough for Julie to grin and say, “Yeah! Why don’t you give us a hand?” and then the boy’s smiling and stepping forward to take one of the boxes from Frank’s arms. Julie and Frank carry on to the dorm with the boy in tow, Julie making easy conversation as they go.

They find out that the boy’s name is Quentin, that it’s his first day here, too, that he just saw them and figured that three people would be better than two. Julie nods agreeably along to that statement. Frank listens to their conversation, still too worn thin from the night before to participate, but Quentin is nice and quiet and for once Frank isn’t on guard.

_(always be on guard always prepare for the worst)_

As they finish bringing in the last of the boxes, Quentin turns to Frank and asks for his and Julie’s numbers. Exchanging a look with Julie, Frank gives them to him.

That’s how it starts.

******

Quentin meets Susie and Joey two days later when Frank and Julie invite him out.

They take him out for coffee, and the second he walks in Julie is throwing her arm around Susie and pulling her forward and saying, “This is my girlfriend, Susie.” 

_(and oh does that hurt)_

Quentin smiles and says hello and introduces himself to Joey and they - oh, they like him, Frank can tell. Susie is chatting more openly than she does with most people and Joey is listening intently as Quentin talks about his friends. And Quentin…

Quentin takes every pause and every lull in the conversation to dart glances at Frank, and every time Frank opens his mouth to contribute to the conversation he can see Quentin immediately turn his undivided attention onto him.

Frank doesn’t miss the looks, the focus of Quentin’s gaze, and when it finally gets to be too much, Frank smirks and says, “See something you like?”

Quentin’s face goes bright pink.

Frank tries to pretend that the warmth in his chest is just satisfaction.

******

When Frank sees Quentin for the fifth time, it’s just the two of them.

And Michael.

Quentin’s big, silent friend Michael who Frank keeps forgetting is even there because the fucker is so damn quiet.

The others had stuck around long enough to meet Michael and had promptly fucked off after that. Not that Frank can even blame them, because Michael is… a presence. 

They’re watching movies in Quentin’s dorm, and every time Frank’s fingers brush against Quentin’s as they both reach for the popcorn, Frank can feel his heart surge. Michael watches them with sharp, maybe even knowing eyes and Frank can’t help but squirm under his gaze. At some point Frank makes eye contact with Michael only to see Michael slowly, unblinkingly bring a piece of popcorn to his mouth, holding firm eye contact the whole time. Frank looks away.

It’s only once Michael’s left to meet up with Quentin’s other friend Jake that Frank finally gets the chance to blurt out the pick-up line he’s been holding inside the entire time.

“Y’know, Quentin,” he says. “I think you’re the reason for global warming.” Quentin turns confused eyes on him. Refusing to falter, Frank says, “Because you’re _hot.”_

And then Quentin’s blushing furiously and laughing and giving Frank a playful slap on the shoulder, 

_(will not trigger me will not let it trigger me)_

and saying, “That was so bad!” But still he’s blushing and looking bashful so Frank considers it a win.

“Aw, come on.” Frank pouts. “Don’t you think I’m pretty, too?” And it really is just a joke but they both seem to feel that there’s something more in it.

Quentin just gives him a little smile. “Yeah, I do.”

And if Frank’s heart beats a little faster at that… well, that’s no one’s business but his.

******

It’s Frank’s misfortune that the next time his legion hangs out with Quentin is also the next time they hang out with Anna. 

It’s not a misfortune for Quentin. He doesn’t seem nearly as intimidated by Anna as Frank and the others had been by Michael, though it’s admittedly gotta be pretty hard for Quentin to be scared of her when she’s wrapping her arms around him and hoisting him into the air with an affectionate cry of, “Baby!”

Quentin laughs, clearly elated as Anna sets him on the ground and ruffles his hair. “Baby,” she repeats, her accent thick and warm, and Quentin grins. Frank has to admit, he’s impressed. Anna hadn’t even adopted _them_ that fast.

It’s not a misfortune for Frank for the first few hours. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. Seeing Julie and Susie together doesn’t hurt as much today as it has recently, and Joey is back to looking at Frank like he knows he’s alright, and Frank is feeling… good. Okay. 

His downfall comes in the form of underestimating how perceptive Anna is.

Anna is letting Quentin down from a piggyback ride through the square, and then Frank is leaning in and saying, “When am _I_ gonna get to carry you?”

And Quentin, his cheeks dusted a light pink, says, “You gotta work for it.” 

“Oh, I am,” Frank says, and then tips him a wink. Quentin’s face turns even pinker.

“Hey, come look at this, Quentin!” Joey calls, and the moment is lost as Quentin hurries to join him. 

And then comes Frank’s fuck-up; he lets his face fall, vague disappointment welling in him at the loss of the flirting. He doesn’t realize what it means, not yet, but Anna sees it and _she_ realizes.

Frank is about to join the others when Anna puts a heavy hand on Frank’s shoulder and calls to the others. “I am talking to Frank for the moment.” They wave in acknowledgement and then Anna is pulling Frank aside, her face serious as she turns to him. He stares up at her, utterly confused.

Then, in a gruff, thick voice, she says, “You like the boy.”

Frank blanches. “Who? Quentin?” She nods, and his skin pales further. “No, I don’t,” he protests. “I was just messing around.”

She shakes her head, eyes grave as she looks into his. “Looked sad when you stopped,” she says. “You want the boy.”

Frank gapes. “I - no, I don’t,” he mumbles, though his conviction is weakening. 

She pats him on the shoulder, face kind as she says, “Yes. You want the boy.” 

And then she’s turning to catch up with the others, leaving Frank shocked and staring, stewing in the sudden, painful knowledge that she’s right. 

******

Frank is spiraling.

It starts, as all his spirals do, with him shutting his legion out. Oh, he still spends everyday with them, but he’s quieter, more closed off, less willing to take playful jabs without a scowl. He knows they see it in him; every time he enters a room, Susie’s big blue eyes turn up to him, round and worried, and Joey’s eyes are searching and clear in their want of information. 

One day Julie

_(and of course it’s julie of course it’s her)_

corners him, her face tight with worry and maybe even anger, and she’s asking him what the fuck’s wrong, but Frank just pushes past her and leaves her questions unanswered.

He loves his legion, trusts them with his life, but he’s too scared to show that part of him, to peel himself open and admit 

_(he wants quentin and everyone he wants leaves him in the end and he knows he knows quentin will never stay)_

to his demons.

He says and shows nothing to the others. He sticks to banging his head against the wall and carving himself up and never ever showing anyone his wounds.

******

Even deep in his spiral, Frank can’t say no to time with Quentin, and so to the park with his legion he goes.

Quentin has another friend along this time; a playful redhead named Meg, and Meg is loud and energetic and larger than life and Frank can just tell how much Susie loves her already. 

The moment Meg sees Frank, a Cheshire grin is spreading across her face and then she’s leaning over to whisper into Quentin’s ear and he’s batting her away and blushing.

_(she made him blush but frank will not be jealous he will not)_

Frank lapses into silence after the introductions, his mind straying to the sting of his still-fresh cuts and the weariness of his body as he struggles not to stew in the creeping feeling of heartache.

_(you’re not even together frank you stupid idiot you don’t get to feel like this)_

He can feel Quentin’s eyes on him but, in the end, decides not to say anything about it. He’s not in the mood to rib him.

Of course, he should’ve known he wouldn’t have been safe for long. 

Frank is pulled out of his thoughts by Joey shouting, “Julie! Susie! Come show Meg the bridge!” 

“Bridge?” Meg repeats.

“The gays’ bridge,” Susie says with a giggle. “You coming, Frank?”

Frank shakes his head and tells her he’s just gonna hang around. She frowns but says nothing. “I’ll come,” says Quentin, eyes alight with curiosity. 

Meg, however, has other plans.

“We’ll show you in a bit,” Meg says, grinning as she pushes a startled Quentin towards Frank. “Why don’t you hang back and keep Frank company?” She winks before spinning back around as Quentin splutters, looking incredibly proud of herself.

Frank and Quentin stand in silence for a long moment as the girls join Joey, and at first Frank thinks that’s gonna be it, but then Quentin is turning to Frank and

“Are you okay?” His voice is soft, gentle.

Frank blinks, lifting his heavy eyes to Quentin’s face. He looks genuinely worried, face somber and his brow knitted together.

Frank swallows, and the lie pushes out through his mouth. “Yeah,” he says, and for some reason - some _fucking_ reason, he immediately regrets it. Regrets lying to Quentin.

“Yeah?” Quentin says. He doesn’t look like he believes Frank, but Frank knows he’ll accept it if Frank asks him to.

But Frank can’t. He can’t ask him to accept his lie. Quentin doesn’t deserve that.

Swallowing dryly, Frank slowly shakes his head. “No,” he says hoarsely. “Not really.”

Quentin frowns, his entire fucking _aura_ just _reeking_ of concern. “What’s wrong?” he asks, dropping his voice to a whisper, as if they aren’t the only ones in the park this early in the morning.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Frank says, turning to sit heavily on a nearby bench. Quentin sits beside him slowly, like he’s unsure if he’s welcome to.

But he is. He’s more than welcome to.

“Can we just sit?” Frank asks, voice hoarse, and Quentin nods.

They sit together, just breathing, until the others rejoin them.

Frank can barely hold it in.

******

Frank Morrison is in love with Quentin Smith.

Stupidly, hopelessly in love.

In love with Quentin’s beanie, his persistent bedhead, the never-fading shadows beneath his eyes, the faint freckles on his face. In love with his gentle touch, the soft strength he carries in his body, the way every bit of him screams, _I’ll protect you and you can protect me._

Fucking Christ, Frank is even in love with Quentin’s goddamn friends, even the ones he hasn’t met yet, because they’re _Quentin’s_ and Quentin is so good, so everything of his must be good, too.

Frank is in love, and it hurts, because Quentin isn’t like Julie - Julie and Frank are one and the same, but Quentin? Quentin is _nothing_ like him. Quentin is _good._ He’s too good for Frank, too out of his world.

But Frank is in love, and he cannot get it out of him.

******

In the end, Frank can’t keep it in anymore. It’s overwhelming, threatening to tear him at the seams and spill out of his body. Not even bleeding himself out helps release it, and he’s reached the point that he’s starting to wonder if maybe he should die. And that… he hasn’t felt that since before the legion. It scares him now. It shouldn’t scare him, but it does.

He goes to Susie. Susie is safe. Susie won’t push him, not like Julie and Joey. Probably won’t even tell them if he asks her not to.

So he stumbles into her apartment, and she looks up from her nail polish with wide blue eyes, concern evident in her face at the visible slump of his body.

“Frank?” she murmurs as he closes the door. 

“I like him, Sus,” Frank says, voice filled with despair, and she jumps to her feet, stepping lightly towards him.

“What? What’s wrong?” She puts her hands on his shoulders, searching his face.

“I like him so much,” he says, and he wants, at once, to cut his scars back open, right here right now, but it doesn’t help anymore and Susie’s eyes are widening and her grip is tightening.

“Quentin?” she asks, her face filled with a sudden clarity.

“You knew?” he asks, and he doesn’t even know what he wants her answer to be.

She shakes her head. “Well, I - I didn’t, no, but… I should’ve guessed.” Her hands drop from his shoulders, wringing together. “You talk about him a lot,” she says softly, and Frank blinks, taken aback.

“I do?” he asks absently. He never noticed.

“You do,” she confirms. She frowns hard, eyes desperate as she looks at him. “What’s wrong with liking him?”

“I shouldn’t,” Frank says. “I shouldn’t -”

_(shouldn’t like boys, shouldn’t want anyone, shouldn’t be capable of feeling love for anyone but julie, shouldn’t even be human enough to feel that, shouldn’t care)_

He stops, thinks of being called evil at the age of 7, thinks of being called loveless at the age of 10, thinks of loving Julie because she’s _like him_ and to be like him is to not need to be a person. To be like him is to never need to feel. To be like him is to only love others like him.

Except Susie’s not like him, and Julie loves her. Quentin’s not like him, and Frank loves him.

Maybe Frank’s different than he thought.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, and it’s the truth. He’s lost. Fully, firmly lost for the first time in his life. “I really don’t know.”

Susie takes him by the hand, leading him to the couch, and pulls him down to sit with her. She wraps her arms around him and presses his face into her chest, one hand rubbing up and down his back.

And if Frank sheds a tear or two, well… no one has to know.

******

Frank doesn’t tell Quentin, but after talking to Susie, it does get easier. She doesn’t tell Julie or Joey,

_(“Your secret’s safe with me,” she’d told him, a gentle smile on her face.)_

but she’s supportive in secret. When the other two have classes but she has none, she takes him out to a café and buys him danishes and lets him talk to her about Quentin. And when they spend time with Quentin, Susie always shoots Frank encouraging looks and covertly nudges him towards Quentin, giving him two thumbs up when no one’s looking.

He appreciates it. Appreciates her. He’s thankful that she’s here. Thankful that all his legion is here, really, even if two of them are in the dark.

It’s still painful, it still hurts, but slowly, slowly, it gets easier.

And then, three months into knowing each other, he goes to pick Quentin up.

Quentin doesn’t answer the door. Frank stands outside for three full minutes, knocking and knocking and calling for Quentin. Still no answer. Frank looks at the doorknob, hesitating. Quentin had told him that he keeps the dorm unlocked when he’s home, that his friends are welcome to come in anytime. Still, Frank isn’t sure. He doesn’t want to walk in on Quentin naked, or jacking off, or some shit like that. 

...Okay, maybe he does, but Quentin certainly wouldn’t want that.

He knocks again. No answer.

Biting the bullet, he opens the door and slips inside in search of Quentin. 

Frank finds him curled up in a ball on his bed, sobbing softly into his knees, and the world seems to stop. 

It’s wrong. It’s so wrong.

“Quentin?” Frank says as he stares, wide-eyed, at Quentin’s shaking body. Quentin’s head snaps up, his eyes big and afraid, and he hurries to scrub at his face.

“Hi, Frank,” he says, voice shaky and stuffed up. “Uh, sorry, I’m - just give me a minute.”

Frank stands uselessly in the doorway, watching as Quentin gasps for breath. He should do something. He should comfort him. What would he do if this was Susie?

Spurred into action by that thought, he moves to slowly sit beside Quentin, reaching out to take him in his arms. It’s awkward and fumbling, and probably not even that comforting, but Quentin accepts it readily, turning and burying his face into Frank’s chest as he cuddles up to him. It makes Frank’s heart flutter, and he can’t help how dirty he feels for feeling like that when Quentin’s _crying._ Thinking back to what Susie did for him, Frank tightens his arms around Quentin and presses him closer against himself, running one hand up and down Quentin’s back as he lets him cry. 

Quentin’s soft cries slow down eventually, until he’s just sniffling against Frank’s chest. He pulls away slowly and Frank unwraps his arms, already missing the embrace.

_(stop being selfish frank he’s fucking crying)_

“Sorry,” Quentin rasps, and Frank shakes his head.

“What’s wrong?” Frank asks, and Quentin shrugs. 

“A lot of things,” he says, voice small. “Bad things. Childhood things. Um. Relationship things.” 

Frank frowns. Relationship?

He tries to ignore the way that makes his heart hurt. “Relationship things?” he asks.

Quentin swallows and shakes his head. “I’m…” He glances at Frank. “I’m in love with someone who I don’t think loves me back,” he murmurs, looking away.

Frank’s heart stops. 

_(you were right frank he could never love you he’s in love with someone else he’ll never love you)_

“Oh,” he says, lips numb. He swallows. “That’s, uh… that’s rough.”

Quentin stares at him for a long moment. “Yeah,” he says dully. “Rough.”

They sit in silence.

******

Frank is spiraling. He thought it was getting easier, that it would be okay eventually, but he was wrong.

Julie loves Susie. Quentin loves someone else.

Frank is alone.

It hurts.

******

Frank isn’t expecting Meg to turn up on his doorstep.

The second he opens his apartment door, she storms inside, braids streaming behind her. “‘That’s rough?!’” she cries, spinning around to glare at Frank, who’s standing stunned by the open door. “That’s fucking rough?! Who says that?!” She throws her hands into the air, face almost as red as her hair. “How the fuck are you so fucking oblivious?!”

Frank gapes at her. “I - _what?”_

Her mouth pulls into a snarl as she stomps towards him, reaching out just to shove him back. He stumbles, his own face pulling into a scowl. “Watch it!” he snaps.

 _“You_ watch it!” she yells back. “You’re so fucking dumb!”

Frank’s veins surge with hot, boiling rage. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“Quentin!” she roars.

He freezes. “What?”

“He _tells_ you he’s in love with someone and you fucking say ‘that’s rough’?!” She stops to run her hands through her hair, yanking on her braids. “I thought _Quentin_ was oblivious but this takes the fucking cake!”

“Are you gonna fucking tell me what you’re talking about?” Frank snaps, bristling. “Or are you just gonna keep insulting me?”

She looks him dead in the eye, fists clenched at her sides. “He _told_ you he’s in love with someone.”

“I know!” Frank snarls.

“It’s _you!”_ she shrieks, and he stops. “He’s in love with _you,_ you stupid asshole, and you just made him feel like you didn’t even care!”

Frank gapes. “What?”

“You heard me! God, you’re both so _stupid!_ I _know_ you like him too, so fucking act like it!”

He stares, blood pounding in his ears. “I - what?”

Meg takes a deep breath, fists clenching and unclenching and clenching and unclenching. “He. Likes. You,” she says slowly, like he’s stupid, and maybe… maybe he is. “And you like him, _dumbass.”_ She steps up to him, glaring dead into his eyes. “So fucking _tell him.”_

Then she storms out, leaving Frank stunned in his apartment.

Oh.

******

The next time they hang out with Quentin, Quentin has something of a bodyguard: Michael. 

Quentin looks exhausted, his entire body slumped with apparent defeat, and it hurts Frank’s heart.

_(because of you frank it’s all because of you you hurt him)_

Susie’s eyeing Frank cautiously, and Frank knows immediately that Meg told her. Michael’s sticking close to Quentin’s side, never leaving him for more than a few seconds, and Frank thinks they told him, too.

Frank feels dull, lifeless. Quentin’s in love with him. Quentin’s in love with him and he fucking blew it. 

_(you fucking snot faced little brat! his dad yells in his head. you ruin everything!)_

Frank can feel his fresh cuts stinging on his thighs, the pull of the cigarette burns on his skin. 

It’s when the others move ahead that Frank pauses, empty eyes trailing over to Quentin and Michael. He’s got nothing left to lose, does he? 

“Michael,” he says softly, and Michael stops in his tracks, turning his blank eyes on Frank. Quentin is frozen beside him, staring hard at the ground. What has Frank done? He swallows. “Can I talk to Quentin?” Michael tilts his head, staring at him for a long moment. “Alone?” Michael turns his eyes to Quentin. Quentin nods slowly. 

“I’ll be okay,” Quentin says softly, offering Michael a thin smile. “Go on.”

Slowly, Michael nods and starts towards the others. Frank and Quentin stand in silence for a long, long moment, Quentin’s arms crossed tightly and Frank’s hands tucked into his pockets as they both stare at the ground. 

After a silence that seems to stretch forever, Frank turns to Quentin and says, “I’m sorry.”

Quentin slowly looks up at him, his eyes distrustful. Frank knows the look, has been on the other side of it so many times.

_(you ruin everything!)_

He swallows. “I like you,” he murmurs. “I really like you. And I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t like you back.”

Quentin blinks at him before looking away. “Meg said you liked me,” he murmurs, kicking at the dirt. “I didn’t believe her.”

Frank’s heart twists. “If you had told me,” Frank starts, and then stops. He can’t blame Quentin for this. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice,” he says instead. “I, uh… I guess I’m oblivious.”

Quentin snorts at that, lips turning up in a little smile. “I guess I am, too,” he says softly, turning his eyes up to Frank. The smile fades. “Could we try again?” he asks, voice timid, unsure.

Frank looks at him, takes in the sight of his beanie, his faint freckles, his eye bags, the soft blue jacket he wears, and Frank loves him. He’s so beautiful, so _him,_ and Frank loves him so fucking much. He wants, more than anything, to try again. “Yeah,” he says. He clears his throat, turning to face Quentin fully. “Quentin Smith,” he says, voice louder, firmer. “I am ridiculously, hopelessly in love with you.”

Quentin’s eyes go round, his mouth slightly agape. “Oh,” he says in a tiny voice, and Frank’s heart beats with panic because _oh god he said something wrong._

But then Quentin’s turning to him and saying, “Frank Morrison, I’m in love with you, too.”

They stare at each other, and Frank’s heart soars. In this moment, Julie does not exist. Susie does not exist. Joey does not exist. It’s just him, and Quentin, and all the love Frank is _finally_ letting himself feel. 

Lips numb, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Quentin breaks into a wide smile. “Yeah,” he whispers, “you can.”

And so they do. It’s wet, and sloppy, and a little awkward, but they’re both laughing by the end of it, gazing at each other with fond eyes, and that’s really all that matters.

Hand in hand, they rejoin the others.

******

Frank Morrison is not okay.

But maybe, just maybe, he will be.

**Author's Note:**

> i was originally gonna do a sad ending but i couldn’t. i couldn’t do it.
> 
> i haven’t done a oneshot since 2016 so forgive me if i’m a lil rusty. again, i think it’d be rlly cool to do a longer story based off of this but it definitely depends. i plan on doing more normal life AUs just cuz i’m fascinated by the idea of all the situations and interactions they could have in a world where the killers aren’t killers
> 
> anyway thank you for reading!!


End file.
